


Warm and Safe

by Telaryn



Series: The Hero and The Bad Boy [31]
Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>News of his impending fatherhood has Quinn in an emotional tailspin.  Clint takes care of him after an argument Quinn doesn't even remember starting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm and Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishilde](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ishilde).



> This is little more than a character study I wrote for Ishilde - it refers to past events in the series, but is largely about the strength of Clint and Quinn's bond, and the idea that sometimes with certain people you don't really need to explain yourself.
> 
> Obviously Quinn is still not doing well, and I promise this isn't the last you've seen of his issues - but this particular story is about the two of them and taking a moment to reaffirm that no matter how strange things get, Clint and Quinn are in this with each other for the long haul.

_Pulverized glass and star stuff_. He felt like crystal set too close to a vibrating tuning fork – when it reached the proper frequency, everything he was, everything he could be, would shiver into dust.

Deep down, where he kept the stuff he’d sworn not to talk about, Quinn wanted that last step so badly he could taste it. It wasn’t sharp or bright like his other desires – this one was soft and dark and whispered to him in a voice that was sometimes very hard to ignore.

_Like now._

Senses honed over decades told him the second Clint crossed the threshold of their bedroom, but Quinn couldn’t muster up the energy to respond to the intrusion. He wasn’t even entirely sure anymore what had triggered the attack – his last clear memory was talking with Clint over dinner. Word had come from the district attorney’s office that morning; the woman who had kidnapped and tortured Quinn and who was carrying his child had finally gone into labor.

Even now he might be a father of a child he had never expected and who he would only be allowed marginal contact with.

“Don’t…” he whispered, anticipating Clint’s need to talk. He wasn’t even sure anymore what his lover had said that had led them to this moment – the suspicion that _anything_ Clint had said would have caused this reaction was like a sickness festering in his soul.

Instead of words he heard a quiet snap of fabric and something soft and heavy settled across his shoulders and down the length of his body. Swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat, Quinn drew his knees up, making himself as small as he could under the covering.

He heard faint rustling then as Clint moved around the room, then the bed creaked under the archer’s weight as he settled in behind Quinn. A hand briefly gripped his shoulder; Quinn was startled to realize that instead of being painful, the insulating factor of the blanket made the touch solid and reassuring. “I’m here,” Clint said quietly.

Quinn waited for him to say more, but Clint settled in behind him with a soft sigh – lightly spooning him so that all physical contact was safely muffled by the blanket. One arm slid cautiously around Quinn’s waist, holding him without actually restraining him when Quinn gave no sign of rejecting the gesture.

 _I should say something. I should apologize._ Now that the worst of his anxiety seemed to have passed, Quinn could look at his earlier behavior and acknowledge that he had been unforgivably off his game. _He didn’t deserve any of that._

There was so much about his life right now that Clint didn’t deserve to be stuck with; moments where Quinn felt like he was drowning in blood and filth and the nightmare of his bad choices. Anyone who tried to help him was only going to get dragged down for their troubles. _You need to go,_ he thought, squeezing his eyes shut against the aching threat of tears. _Save yourself._

“Shhh.” His body had betrayed his thoughts. Clint’s breath was warm on his neck as he whispered, “Try and sleep if you can.” His arm tightened briefly around Quinn’s waist and Quinn instinctively moved into his embrace. The archer hummed, clearly pleased by Quinn’s reaction, but didn’t try to move any closer on his own. 

“I’m sorry,” Quinn managed, but before he could say anything else, Clint kissed the back of his neck.

“Nothing to apologize for.” He nuzzled in closer, and something eased in Quinn’s chest when the movement relaxed him instead of making things worse. “I just want you to know that whatever’s going on in that head of yours, I’m here until you wise up and get rid of me.” He’d meant the end as a joke – it was one he’d used in the past – but tonight his words so closely echoed Quinn’s own dark thoughts that he felt tears finally slip down his cheeks.

“Never,” he said fiercely, tugging until Clint was wrapped so tightly around him that Quinn could feel his easy strength even through the barrier that separated them.

 _Never…_ Clint had his back. Clint was here and would keep him safe through the night and the nightmares.

The rest of it could wait until forever.


End file.
